


Scent Only They Know

by SilverSouls



Series: The Four Brides [1]
Category: Adam (2009), Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004), Pusher (Refn Movies)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Alpha Tonny (Pusher), Alpha Tristan (King Arthur 2004), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assassination, Declarations Of Love, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Gay, Human Trafficking, Idiots in Love, Lecter Brothers, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Gore, Mpreg, Murder Family, Omega Adam Raki, Omega Aiden (Blood and Chocolate), Omega Galahad (King Arthur 2004), Omega Verse, Omega Will Graham, Scent Marking, Scenting, Serial Killers, Slow Romance, Touch-Starved, True Mates, hypnotherapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSouls/pseuds/SilverSouls
Summary: Everything seemed to speed up when Will opened his eyes, Aiden’s screams echoed in his ears, penetrated his palace, and nearly tore down the entrance. He didn’t even have time to answer as his eyes and memory were busy recording the thick wisp that covered the ceiling above and swallowed him after.
Relationships: Aiden (Blood and Chocolate)/Tonny (Pusher), Galahad/Tristan (King Arthur 2004), Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: The Four Brides [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936285
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Voorpret

Twinkling, like splinters of glass in the moonlight, the only things to recognize in the dark when stars did not wish to greet. Thumping, like a heartbeat when a rifle pointed at a pale, trembling face full of paranoia. Will shut his eyes, hoping the twinkling and thumping would die down, allowing him to return to the mind palace that had always made him feel stable, safe, and at ease. He could have done that, submerging himself in the made-up silence, ignoring the oppressive elements of his surroundings, being squeezed among some denuded humans who were pressed, crouching, sweating but cold. There breathed all breeds of lineage from all kinds of places, families, and backgrounds around him, crowding him with a damp warm temperature, sending out such a strong scent. They didn’t smell this as well as Will did, they were just smelling and exasperating or smelling and pestering. For Will, scents were the most mysterious, the most intimate thing that should be sniffed out by anyone but him, providing plenties of tales, letting out a lot of notions that sneer, wail, berserk, crazy... He didn’t have a preference for it, to be in a place where there were many humans with brains behind their skulls, with hearts behind their ribs, for there would be many things getting to him, grabbed and clasped his hands tightly, holding them hostage in dark colors far from joyous. They said most people keep their happiness themselves, so what was this, that was fuming in the room, among the quieted people, in front of Will, full of mute howls where he slumped? Wasn’t that what they keep? Rather than happiness, it could more accurately be depicted as silent agony, killing slowly, parasites in the mind; the more the torment, the more it grew.

Will coughed, desperately wishing he didn’t, drawing attention to the black mass of negative feelings to look up at him but the air was so stuffy, shoving rock-hard void through his throat, blocking his breath; and he became as damp and as cold as everyone else. Perhaps the contents of his head went berserk along with that wisp of torment, perhaps Will would want to prevent it so he growled and closed his eyes tightly, letting the beads of sweat feast on the surface of his skin which was getting dull from weariness and stress. In his mind palace, he was packing up, casting off the bad things he had partaken into a separate, isolated room, but did not want to be forgotten. He fasted and locked its heavy door after seeing a man inside, smiling lightly at a girl who didn’t even notice the slight smile he was trying to make. There the light was bright and Will immediately closed the door without bothering to hold it open any longer.

The door to the stuffy room opened at the same time as the door in Will’s mind palace closed. “Come on, my lads. It’s Saturday and we’ll have the reception again!” A shout rang out as a glare contrasted with the gloom that was holding the people inside intruded, and a figure arrived, sat in a wheelchair propelled by a fat white man whose outfit yelled a ludicrous portrayal of a chef on the role as a fake surgeon. “Use your nose, Cordell. Choose a perfume that is suitable for this occasion. Oh, how I wish my nose was fine!”

“I’ll be around.” Cordell nodded, expelling his grip on the wheelchair that made a subtle creak as the brakes were pressed on before he stepped over a few people who were muttering and lying down, staring at nothing but the ceiling while his nostrils flared, toying with his lungs, attention focused on the scents that filled the room. His chunky hoofs in his tiny loafers seemed to be struggling in an attempt to circle the cement-floored space, breathing in everyone at once; he strolled into the corner on Will’s left and plucked a limp, nearly collapsed man when Cordell urged him to his feet. Hence he stepped around into the tract not far from the limp one, grabbing a lanky man with long curly fluff that flapped as his body jerked away by Cordell’s harsh movement. The lanky one was disgruntled, it was visible from the way he repelled Cordell’s touch, “get rid of that despicable hand from me, you bastard,” he said, perhaps spitting if he had forgotten that near his foundations there were many other omega curled up. The two men were soon pushed towards the door to the outside, revolts and anathematize heard from one of them in the clearing as Cordell pawed his pig-clawed limbs back into the spot behind the wheelchair occupied by Mason Verger, his master.

“I did lose my nose, Cordell. But I didn’t lose my smell.” Mason muttered, his eyes dimmed behind the pair of gold-framed circular glass perched on his nose bridge, glaring at another self in the room before shifting his index finger, lifting towards the wall where Will was leaning, easing himself in the mind palace. “Take him too, my sweet Cordell. Take him to the party with us.” Afterward, Will joined the other two omega, all confused but too frantic to merely ask what festivity or occasion or who was going to be the guest. There were too many things for people like them on this planet to deal with, whose derivation was the beginning of the crusade, whose demise was the beginning of wrath, chronic, enacted, persistent. Mason Verger didn’t just kidnap people, he kidnapped omega which had unique scents, the obsession to both alpha and beta; on the ladder of grade, Verger’s captive omega were of the finest quality, the most irresistible eye treat, the most soporific presence.

Secondary gender is divided into three, alpha, beta, and omega. Likewise with their grade, high, middle, and low. Let’s precise the ordinances here: human-grade is represented by their scent, the rarer the higher the grade. High graders only mate their kind while middle and low ones can target each other, apart from because high-people have to pass on their vanity from generation to generation, they also don’t feel any effect on people from supplementary grades; locks high alpha in the same room as middle or low omega in heat, nothing will happen even ten hours have passed. It’s different if the conditions are reversed in which high omega in heat is locked in one room with alpha or beta from another grade, they can come to be crazy, obsessed, and will never have enough; when high-people could only be incited by those of the same grade, high omega was the opiate the whole ladder was looking for—and Mason Verger was middle alpha, his smell was sharp and the omega from the high class was too intoxicating, too maddening, blinding, and because of that frailty he could find the promising quality omega.

Will was one of them.

Together with the limp man, Adam, who looked confused, and Aiden the skinny fierce, Will was left to clean himself in a luxurious spacious bathroom in Verger Mansion. The three of them were not in a rush to immediately remove their smooth rumps out from the fish-pond-sized tub, nor were they instructed to catch up on time. They were allowed to take pleasure in their time that was utterly incomprehensible because they recalled very well that they were still being kidnaped by an ugly blond-haired man—ugly might not be able to portray Mason’s appearance competently regarding the state of his damaged face, skinned by his own hands with joy and hunger. Aiden’s light brown hair floated on the surface of the water like a toupee for a musical theater performer blown by the wind into the murky lake in autumn and Adam hugged his knees beside him, sat in the corner of the tub, fidgeting as he watched the rubber ducks Mason provided as ‘entertainment’ clashed, startling him. Aiden rose, looked at Adam and laughed—bitterness in his tone. “Come on, it’s just a duck.”

“I know. Rubber duck, don’t have SPLICE.”

“Splice?” Will interrupted. The two people with him were indeed a lot younger and Will, although he had always never good at getting along with people, felt the urge to get to know more about them. Only God knows what Mason had conspired, what would come to pass to them in the following hours, and it was not inconvenient to communicate before the fiasco that awaited them to greet and persuade acquaintances.

“SPLICE. That-”

“Voice recognition technology. Adam talks about that a lot, you know, he’s the loudest person in the room.” Still laughing, Aiden quit the tub, grabbed _his_ bathrobe, and went to a large mirror that lengthened nearly the entire wall where sinks were lined with a fat golden vase curved in the middle, filled with a handful of red and yellow flowers he didn’t know what their names were, brushed his teeth there after ponying his locks. Adam glanced at Will who fell silent again, sighing heavily as if the air was not a common thing entering his lungs. Will turned his head, felt he had to smile but his lips didn’t even curl in the slightest as Adam sat trembling beside him, cold, not catching up with Aiden out of the tub. Of all the heads there, Adam got the neatest hair and brightest eyes, unrestricted from the hassle slinging behind Will’s hoods which he could similarly feel from Aiden. The way Adam looked, the way he glanced, Will found clarity and chastity there, as naive as a kid, as honest as a baby, curious to know the world that deceived him with all the good things his parents had shown.

As soon as he finished brushing his teeth, Aiden rambled on, lamenting about how upsetting his life was to be going back and forth as an internee—he had been arrested for defending Damon, the handsome blonde who brought him and his brother to their knees, fooling him; after all those years, he was eventually free only to be captive by another blonde man. How sick he was with it and fortunately, Will and Adam had grimy hair identical to his. “You just got here yesterday and Mason invited you to a party this fast.” He let his robe open, the rope dangling, caressed the cold glossy marble floor that kissed the soles of his feet, which previously had only been allowed to tread on smooth paste. “My name is Aiden, my family and I have tried our best to hide but still.”

“Then it’s not the best yet, Aiden. I’m Will.” Will scratched his brow with his thumb, gave Aiden a brief look before coughing again. He was thirsty.

“What are you hiding from?” Adam blinked, peering at Aiden with egregious curiosity, his fingers twirling one another.

“Your family must have done the same, Adam.” Aiden reached out to the short hair, pulling him out of the tub because, behold, the surface of his fingers began to wrinkle from the long soak, competing for the creases on Cordell’s face when someone thinner wore it. Maybe Adam enjoyed it when his body rejuvenated after weeks of being confined in a stuffy room full of muggy scents, so he didn’t feel like he had to rush through this odd cleaning activity and decided to bask a little longer before Mason crammed him back into their ‘bedroom’ when the party was over.

“Yes, all the people Masons kidnapped must have had time to hide before they were found. Pills, injection, perfume… We’re just that hard to really hide.” Will sighed, stretched his legs and felt his abdomen soothe a little more, sloping his nape against the brink of the carved stone tub; beautifully twisted, piercing cold. He didn’t need to conference the whole room to conclude that Mason Verger collected high-class omega, Will’s smell was always accurate and he had something he never discussed with anyone other than his family, that he could ‘see’ everything occurring in a room even when it didn’t exhibit any motion. All he had to do was breathe it in.

“They use noses, not eyes,” Aiden said, directing Adam to the same sink where he brushed his teeth and the first thing Adam did in front of the mirror, unlike Aiden, was shave. Rather than shaving cream that exuded masculine redolence, something like a freshly baked biscuit with lavender tied around it and a minor tinge of seawater sniffed, fleeting yet heavy. Both stopped conversing to glare at the omega who was shaving incredibly slowly and carefully, Will stroked his forehead as Aiden looked down and crossed his arms, suddenly devastated. Will learned shortly thereafter from Aiden that Adam possessed a condition in which he underwent trouble communicating. Socializing, to be specific. An Asperger, he added. He, not nodding or shaking his head, understood very well without any further justification needed as to what kind of hardships people with this syndrome would encounter, the same reasons why Adam could not prevent ‘himself’ as Will and Aiden had been doing forever. “Whatever Mason planned, Will, Adam would be the whole tool for him.”

“That won’t change even after you pour an entire bottle of soap on his skin. He can’t suppress his scent, and don’t forget his grade.”

“I know, I know.” Aiden looked worried. Since he was Mason’s prisoner, Adam was the only person he could talk sanely—though sometimes his temper became difficult to control, with Adam he could ignore the events that should have distressed them, haunted by pessimistic concerns that toppled and winced at the sound Mason made when he appeared, becoming an interlude in the silence of the stuffy room. Adam never looked terrified even though his condition should be the most likely to panic, or maybe Adam felt safe in that stuffy room, who knows what had happened to him before or what he was doing on the day Mason found him. “If something has to happen, I hope it will happen to me.”

Will could pick up a scent that time, blood mixed with chocolate and a hint of humid hay on the clear expanse when the cold winter breeze astounded it, there, he knew Aiden was serious about what he was saying.

Cordell and two other men, who were rigid and more alert, entered the room where Will, Adam, and Aiden entrenched after they had finished bathing, given a set of clothes made of mulberry silk and linen and a pair of Stuart Weitzman each, forcing them to their knees, attached chain collars to their necks. Adam was confused, repeatedly asking questions about what was encircled around his inlet and why it had to be there, but the ever-soothing Cordell only hinted that this was performed for the ‘common good’. But what denomination of goodness made a human look like a dog ready to be pitted, betted for a sum of dough, and a speck of ephemeral madness that would vanish as fast as a drop of water on a charred-roasted cauldron evaporated? Aiden, of course as always as he was, battled and nearly bit one of Cordell’s helpers if only the man wasn’t agile enough to react, unfortunately, Mason didn’t allow his men to discipline the party highlights since it would spoil their magnificence, outlining the intention to whacked the young man’s cheekbone. After the thick, cold, piercing collars were perfectly fitted, the three of them were led outside the room with their heads covered by sacks, preventing them from memorizing every path they passed, recognizing the place hiding them, learning what the Verger family’s eldest son was aiming at. Surprisingly, Will didn’t react as significant as Adam and Aiden did, not partaking to sporting his refusal as if he was giving Mason approval of everything he was about to do, but Aiden was also not every day, insensitive person; he felt Will carried an assurance for their safety, or at least his own, which Aiden would contemplate, acquire, and share later so he didn’t object, following what Will did even though all the muscles in his body were twitching to fight back.

There were no knowledgeable twinkles or thumps, just stillness and faint rustling, cloth with cloth, sighs, soles of shoes scraping with a soft surface that muffled its echoes. Will sniffed something, but it was too insubstantial, too far, too difficult to guess until the sack on his head was removed, welcoming him with dozens, pairs of eyes that earned Adam suffocate. Aiden landed a hand on the man’s thigh, squeezed it negligibly with the intention of stealing his attention to “don’t scream, don’t panic”, spoke to him, consoling him that he and Will were with him; again it was a peculiarity for three people who didn’t know each other very well to put excessive reliance, this was like volunteering to eat a dish from a stranger with friendly cover when you were very full and left it solely to fate: whether the dish poisonous or could cure a disease you had secretly suffered from. It was then that Mason came out, in a smart chair that was noisy enough to disturb the calm Adam had almost grasped for a moment, leaving Aiden hissing in annoyance. “Just like my welcome speech you have heard, gentlemen. The stocks this time are the best and you can figure for yourself, as soon as I open the glass.” He turned the chair to face Aiden’s irritated face and Will’s judging gaze, they could hear Mason titter behind the abstract pile of skin and flesh on his face, which Cordell clarified as ‘smiling smugly with pride’. It’s true what Mason said, Will and his two new friends were kneeling in a large glass box, enough to accommodate them without feeling cramped like the stuffy room somewhere on the other side of the mansion, enough to separate any foreign scents that could attack their smell like a swarm of bees yearning for the fragrance of spring flowers. And the same thing happened the other way around when the glass was open; Aiden understood very well now, he understood why (from all the extravagant looks that Mason provided) there was not even a small bottle of perfume available, he understood why Mason let them bathed to their heart’s content: the madman wanted this trio to be smelled clearly by those alpha sitting opposite, wielding sharp glare of their cold eyes to expose the lifeless omega before them like small fishes in an aquarium, so threatened by the state of their water getting dirty or drained over time regardless of the life in it.

Mason moved his fingers, ordered Cordell to pull the lever beside the glass box—he was like a robot specially designed to scan all his master’s movements, his sensors were very sensitive and he could even be a good translator as an intermediary between Mason’s crazy thoughts with the arduous reality—which was now facing downwards while the glass box was unhurriedly lifting upward; this was not what Will assumed would happen when Mason said he wanted to ‘open the glass’, he thought there would be something like a gaping door or one side of the glass wall slipped to the other side instead of lifting as a whole and giving him the sensation of being thoroughly naked, making Adam shiver, shock, so that Aiden had to inch closer to him, holding his hand. If things were so different, Will would have declared that Adam and Aiden’s union was the purest and sweetest thing his dark eyes had ever testified during his life of hiding, escaping, the pressure to be ‘invisible’, ignoring golden times when he should be able to mate and give birth just like any other omega.

Life was so humorous and Will knew it was very equitable to some people, he even thought that it was making justice with him by putting him into trouble all the time, avoiding any alpha which might just knot him without voluntary to stay and nest because that’s just how high alpha in control behave, that’s how they use their at-top prestige: behaving as they please and setting aside things other than self-respect by disrespecting others. He knew life was making justice with him by giving him an assortment of ordeals and extensively period to observe, perceive, infer the world before he is ready to move on to a new phase of life where another existence would be borne after he had given birth to his children, raised them, seeing their hardship because of the grade passed down by their parent.

It came as no surprise to Will and Aiden when they saw the crowd’s reaction as soon as the glass disappeared: several alpha were swiftly sniffing one or even all three of the dolls on stage alongside Mason and Cordell who were procrastinating to open up the auction price, impatiently. What else was the purpose of him collecting these rare high omega apart from using them to make cash? “Is he, they, here, Cordell?” Whispered Mason and Cordell lowered his head in line with the master’s lips. Cordell straightened up again, his eyes studying the entire area now filled with smells that were raging against each other, colliding in the air, competing for attention from one of the brightest sides of the room. If they were fortunate, one of the scents would become very notable and merge with theirs, fusing into a wisp of lust lost in the hunt, the long-awaited clash since adolescence and puberty had passed, since body and soul had been capable for what Will dubbed ‘justice from world’.

“Nope,” Cordell whispered back. His reliable nose did not detect the presence of their most eagerly awaited one, a presence that if it had been there would make a very different atmosphere. The Verger auction, which had been running for two years since the pig farm went penniless, certainly had regular visitors, but they stopped visiting since an accident occurred and Mason took it as an expression of guilt for making him eat half of his face.

Mason shrugged. “Hm, what a shame.” Then he resumed his babbling before dragging the guests to the main event. Aiden was a little relieved because this was not his heat period, he was relieved because this was not Adam’s too since the smell was not boisterous and challenging, as well as Will, but according to what he feared about Adam’s proficiency to ‘hide’, his scent was the quickest to be discovered; an alpha with dull black hair had put up a great price to be able to bring the man in yellowish silk home as soon as Mason announced his initial price.

Green, black, and shadows flashed, all playing in Will’s mind as his eyes were closed, the odd colors crisscrossed on a solid flat media, smeared on the surface like an unfinished painting. But he didn’t smell oil paint, nor thinner or papers just bought at a shop at the crossroads, merely a mess of red, orange, violet, and several other colors crashing each other creating thunder against the pitch-black sky. He wasn’t just imagining it, these were the scents of all the audience in the room, so diverse that it was difficult for him to define but his mind was experienced enough to exemplify it in color. Beside him, Adam was the strongest scent that immediately lingered in his memory while before him was the thickest mist that he still could not specify from where, who, and what. It was very dominant, overpowering the others even when it did not combine with the chaotic ones; Will could not yet grasp what the smell was so unusual but his mind was interpreting something, lumpy, largest in size, capable of swallowing the whole room but strangely it didn’t happen. The mist stayed behind, watching, spending time in silence. “A hunter.” Muttered Will, intimidated. Never before he had faced someone with such an ominous presence, an unspeakable existence that his squeamish intuitions could not entrap.

“What?” Aiden turned his head critically, hoping he wasn’t hearing anything about hunts because Adam was shaking violently in his grip. “Hey, you tied him too tight, you choked him!”

“There aren’t any fasteners there.” Cordell shook his head, put aside Aiden’s complaints to enjoy the fervor in the room that seemed to be getting more and more rushed as Adam’s body was chattering more and more his jaws could no longer even be tightened to keep shut. He clenched Aiden’s shirt and stared at his face with a bewildered sad look, ignoring his cold sweat. “What is this, Aiden? What happened to me?”

“What do you feel?”

“Breathe well but can’t breathe either.” Will, in his place, opened his eyes and coughed before turning to Adam and Aiden on his left. “It’s an instinct; his potential mate is here.”

“Impossible.” To encounter a mate was the most amazing thing that everyone craved to experience, yet it was very difficult to happen with the grade discrepancies of each person but Aiden had his own considerations for Adam’s case; Adam had a condition and who was this suddenly showed up counterpart? Especially through an illegal auction that Adam had never seen at all in his life? Fate was funny, but it looked like this was a trial for Adam, maybe also for Aiden and it was definitely part of Will’s.

“One more minute and my genius Cordell will start counting down. For Adam—oh look how many of you want this boy!” Mason cooed, looking at Adam leaning on Aiden. “Never knotted, never marked, virgin omega. Forty seconds left and the current high is $3,500. Really? Lovely Adam doesn’t deserve such cheap respect, does he, gentlemen?” He then spun around with his chair, looking back at the enthusiastic faces filling the expensive benches that could not even comfort his exhausted body. The alpha there didn’t make much sound other than growling or breathing fiercely, a melody that Mason liked even though he was an alpha himself—of course, from a different class.

“Thirty, twenty-nine,”

“Cordell counts really fast, eh?”

“Twenty-five, twenty-four,”

“Oh, is that Mr. Edwards? $3,525? OK.”

“Seventeen, sixteen,”

“Yes, Mr. Johnson! $3,530 and Cordell is almost done counting.”

Aiden panicked even more, Adam didn’t deserve to be valued in currency, he could imagine Adam being treated like an object and not a living being while that person didn’t even anticipate his body’s reaction to foreign scents. Aiden wanted to rebel, he wanted to punch, kick, slash, as he did with Damon many years ago but in the past, it was not him who was handcuffed, it was not him who was watched, in unlikeness to today where his neck was tied with reins witnessed by pairs of eyes ready to pounce. Will frowned, he saw the huge wisp stir, responding to each countdown second. Its density gradually dwindled, thinning, only to become much thicker than before when another board held up, higher than the heads that looked just like a puddle of mud enveloping rocks, right at the last second. A spectacular number was displayed there and Will and Aiden were stunned: someone managed to get Adam for twice the price of the last bid. Seven thousand five hundred.

Two men escorting Cordell approached him, pulling him away from a screaming Aiden. He could not ask for Adam to be swapped with him because the alpha was indeed targeting Adam, not Aiden. He also couldn’t nag Will to do something because their current situation made no difference; Will felt the same concern, how could he not be, the person who had won Adam was the source of the strong blob that had surrounded the room all along, something Will was worried about was darkness and that certainly wasn’t what angels did. He was very grieved, very sad, but there was nothing that could be done because he would soon be bought by someone too. So was this the justice of life he hoped to happen one day? Coming back to the argument that fate was a funny thing, a comedy with a sense of humor suited everyone from all walks of life, it turned out fate just wanted to make Will feel the tension, giving him entertainment as a souvenir for his past days before fetching another surprise: the fire detector rang loudly at the same time as the lights in the entire mansion went out and suddenly the wisp Will had been watching became bigger, engulfing the entire room so that their vision became darker and a strong, heavy scent spread from end to end; not only him but Aiden reacted, along with Mason and Cordell growling. This scent was what they were waiting for, what the auction was for. “Find and catch them alive, Cordell!”

Adam was thrown back into Aiden’s lap who immediately caught him, asking him how he was while Adam was still shaking, nodding with his light blue ocean eyes highlighting Aiden’s firefly in the thicket. The attendees left the room one by one, whoever knew what the reason was: a strong presence occupying the air and filling their lungs with visible fear. Will faintly saw in the dark, with his ‘trained for imagination and prediction’ eyes, that Mason was trying to escape himself either for the sake of safety or for some dirty plan he had been prepared in anticipation, long before this day. The jingling of the chains from Adam and Aiden’s direction sounded plunging, Will’s eyes closed to drown them out, quickly pulled him in the new array of images that the central chamber of his mind palace played: blood, claws, muscular bodies with protruding veins, dark red colors drowning in soft ink, bounced, howling breath... “Will!”

Then everything seemed to speed up when Will opened his eyes, Aiden’s screams echoed in his ears, penetrated his palace, and nearly tore down the entrance. He didn’t even have time to answer as his eyes and memory were busy recording the thick wisp that covered the ceiling above and swallowed him after.

He found the man again in one of the isolated rooms of his palace, which he occasionally visited when his consciousness had been too long to disappear. The man was sitting with his back to the door, facing the sun from a large window opposite him, making his bronze hair shine like a thin, wavy gold thread. Will did not remember who it was and what he had done to be placed in exile, especially in the palace that only subsisted in his mind, which should be a gauge that the image he was interacting with was a life he had met. Will knew only one thing: this man, who had his back on him, had haunted the same room and had been there for years, claiming a piece of Will’s memory unilaterally and Will was not able to kick him out of there. Usually, the man only happened to show some activity such as downing wine in front of a fireplace or sketching a model posing over his head without Will being able to sense his presence—his body temperature or scent, different from this time because Will was able to catch a smell and to Will’s surprise, he took Will to a chat. “Your feet scratch deep to the ground where I reside on the surface, your hands reach down as I extend them from above. Have you finally looked up, Will?”

“Who are you?” Of all the things he wanted to ask about the posture in front of him, this was the first to stumble out of his lips.

“Does it matter to you after you assign me here?”

“If you didn’t answer other than what I asked, maybe you would get your answer too, doctor.”

 _Doctor_.

The man stopped swinging his legs. He looked down, tilting his head with mixed surprise. “I am the king of your palace, agreeably remembered by your every gust and bloodstream, disavowed by your laceration and your mind of always wanting to escape. Tell me, Will, isn’t a palace without a king just a building without life?” He turned his head, pushed his skull and spine in a semicircle to see how Will was looking at him, what feelings spread along with the distance between the door and the chair, but Will couldn’t see his face, as always. The room was constantly refracted by intense sunlight the earth should not reflect but that was not something to be polled considering this was not reality, after all, who could confirm that Will had built his palace on earth and not among unforeseen imaginations? Rather than the earth, his mind palace could more accurately be defined as a building amidst outrageous weather. Then from the window that immersed more light, Will closed his eyes and opened them again to find Adam looking his way.

He was no longer in mind palace and they were no longer in Verger Mansion, Will knew it by its different smell, no Mason, no Cordell, or any other alpha involved in the world’s biggest smelling race. Barneby Gates upholstered walls in caramel color and predominantly glossy wood furniture replaced the glass box and the stage on which they were made into auction products, the collars wrapped around their necks were still there but the chains had fallen off some time and somewhere.

“Aiden, Will is awake.”

“Will,” Aiden sprinted from the other side of the room. “Did you smell something?”

“Like, you? Adam? You guys… feel calm?” Will sat down, massaged his forehead, lurched back into the chair where he’d woken up with Adam. If he could read the atmosphere that his two friends were no longer haunted by horror, he should have guessed that they were not in a dangerous place, but that was not what was surprising: there was no scent other than theirs there; not on the furniture, not on the walls or doors or on the carpet that Aiden stood on. This place was illegible, Will didn’t like it and the only thing he could realize was that Adam and Aiden shouldn’t feel this calm in such a strangely peaceful place.

A sound of key meeting gears in a small hole in the doorway stealing all the say and vigilance of the entire room (with a large bed and a very warm layout, of course, this was a bedroom), they rapidly glare towards it and thumping as the thick, reddish-brown plank swung slowly, showing a man leaning his shoulder against the frame while his big hand stretched out to grab the doorknob. Adam coughed, grabbed Aiden’s arm, trembling as had happened before they moved places and Will understood, the person standing at the door was the $7,500 guy, smiling at the cornered omega—despite the fact that the chair they were crammed into was not in the corner of the room. Unlike that time when darkness fell and Will could only see colors and wisps of presence, here he could detect nothing, not at all.

It felt even unnerving than before.

“Hello, handsome men. Do you fancy French breakfast?”


	2. Natsukashii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far in his deepest hidden consciousness, something alerted Will and Aiden for them to flee immediately, so they wouldn’t prevail in this unknown place, lest they deal with anyone among the dark wisp masters who were relaxing while they, grappling between feeling jeopardized or confused, sat across from the atrocity. That thing also screamed bad news like ‘they are alpha’ and ‘they are the vultures, the obsolete, the most agile’.  
> ‘They are formidable’.  
> ‘It’s like you’re going to be on the menu for dinner’.

He took a good breath, not even noticing the moment the air entered his nose, through his throat, leaving a cold sensation in his ears and making his chest full. That gentle flow of breath seemed to find a new home, felt prosperous in his lungs and even chose a room to dwell in so that Adam choked; it was crammed, driving each other away, not wanting to give way to one another. He just couldn’t breathe in any more of the new, uncoagulated air, which had no intention of settling into his body and penetrating his consciousness. His smell reacted, receiving information from the lump of air stuck in his narrows and delivering it to his data processing center, just like every engine, every system he encountered during his engineering degree embedding process; something was captivating about what was taking up his breath there, tickling his memory with unknown yet familiar whispers, as if Adam had indeed been its place to perish, its proper shelter. The man introduced himself as Nigel and he was not a figure that the three pairs of eyes in the room recorded with good impressions: Will caught the same dark wisp he had seen at the auction, dense as if there was another universe beyond its black, misty behind and above where Nigel stood. Aiden, he felt the temperature of the room become  _ chaotic _ , very cold with a faint gust of warmth grazing his arms and nape along with a sudden feeling of heaviness on his shoulders to the length of his spine. While Adam, of course, had difficulty breathing.

All was well before Nigel opened the door. As Will and Aiden wondered, they sniffed neither a threatening smell nor a foreign presence that left them haunted by a sense of insecurity or anxiety, which ended in two possibilities when a little ‘click’ heard from the distance and caught the whole room’s attention: as a response to their stupefaction or a distinct fear of being able to make it clear to Will and Aiden (as people who had no trouble guessing things) that everything that was going on in their minds, which then led to predictions, was coming from a huge, tall figure that glanced like an eagle there. Widespread and meticulous. Adam, in his insensitivity to the situation, showed more of a physical response—he was fine at first, then his breath became shorter, restricted, and ended up coughing as Nigel came into the room. “Something wrong with him?”

“Something’s wrong with you,” Aiden replied. Obviously as the answer to Nigel’s concern which wasn’t something contrived or irrational because if there was nothing wrong with that man, Adam would still be breathing properly, still bombarding Aiden with curiosity that couldn’t be delayed, still sitting there with a confused face waiting for someone to come up with any practical conclusion about what they were doing in this place. Still leaning against the door frame, Nigel, with a couple of shiny unpredictable color orbs behind the deep lids of his skull, stared at each face in front of him, his glances leaping from one to the other without showing any indication; Aiden saw neither a dangerous quick-move attempt from there nor a sudden, intense change in euphoria, which made his day weirder than ever.

“My brother is a doctor. I think he would be willing to help if you would appreciate the food he cooked.”

“Appreciate food that will kill us?” This time it was Will who countered, frowning with a sharp gaze, warning Nigel. Nigel spruced up with a smile he could no longer hold on to appear friendly, punched a hand into his trouser pocket, fished something out of it which he then placed on a small table in the corner just beside the door, a table of which Will thought utilized to place delivery room things. They were in a room, a guest room the size of Will’s living room and den merged into one.

“The dining room is on the right side of the gallery. If you don’t know where the gallery is, it’s a room where you can see the garden.” Returning his grip on the doorknob, Nigel gave a brief nod defining quick consideration before he rotated and left the room with the plank barely closed, whispering ‘don’t be rude’ and completely disappearing, letting Adam gasped a load amount of air which then replaced the blood volume in his lungs; all the rooms there were now accessible to be occupied by the flow that competed for space just minutes ago, no longer clogging up his airways. Aiden immediately splayed his hand on Adam’s chest, cheek, forehead, made sure he wasn’t having a seizure, checking for any indications of fever that could escort his increased stress which developed in a flash while Will walked over to the small table to check what Nigel had left. Knife and gun. Wasn’t this, really, excessively weird? What did he want by gunning his ‘prisoners’? Scouring and uncovering the answer to every riddle was not something that difficult for Will, he just needed to sniff, digest all the traces in the air, and cultivate it in his mind palace, tuning it up like a string of tapes that shows a lot of scenes as all the pieces were gathered. But Nigel was new, he was something Will had never encountered, his senses and body had never learned, never tried to comprehend; he could read nothing, no riddles to analyze, no traces, tapes, or pieces. Only color and emptiness.

Aiden sighed, nodded, and glanced at Will at the door. “Let’s go there, we have to get the doctor to examine Adam.”

“You actually picked him up for breakfast.” A man with Nigel’s height and short teased hair which might have been shaved bald a few months ago, spoke as he sat on one of the dining chairs, faced a large, long dining table with intense regard at his empty plate accompanied by a set of cutlery and upside-down glass—he did it for his pleasure and to infuriate certain individual by becoming unethical at the start of the feast. Showing how much he liked nagging and getting into trouble.

“My stuff. My rule.” Nigel sat in another chair across from the man, hauled a cigarette box out of his pocket, placed it on the table only to get a silly sizzle from the other person. They like to be naughty, becoming a more humane esprit when compared to the overall impression of the enormous building they live in—a big house, to be more precise, with a snake-shaped crest proclaiming their existence symbolically, emphatically. Supporting the odd awkwardness in the dining room, classical instruments from a preserved antique gramophone were also tuned, glossy wood fronting the window overlooking the shady trees in the garden as the third man entered carrying a large tray holding some large portion menus, larger than basic served but none of the three seemed impressed or amused by it.

“Humans sometimes misinterpret the adequate meaning of companionship. Some encounter it effortlessly while the rest seek out substitute media, escaping the fact that they never find their true companion and cling to there to stay entertained.”

“Shut up, Hannibal.”

“What? You inhaled a fucking junk again, Tonny?” Nigel glared at the short hair who kept his head down, this time not only staring but clawing his fingernail tips against the glittering porcelain surface with a patterned gold edging as well. His tongue stuck out a little to wet his lips, staying there while Nigel showered him with the desire to kick he—so inadequately wanted to—say was unendurable.

“You spent 7,500 to breed someone’s pet, why can’t I use my bread freely?”

“Oh you better sell your brain for mating, I’m serious.”

“Wedding acknowledgment agendas are more fun to debate at the dinner table than consider intercourse with one or two specific people.” Hannibal, the oldest man there, shot a faint smile of knowing mixed with resignation; he simply could never find the peace he deserved in his family dining room, in the face of various tantalizing dishes he cooked and prepared with great joy, almost wholeheartedly like a sacrifice to the exalted one. He just wanted to dine quietly but his beloved siblings would never seem keen to bestow him what he craved. Oh, beloved, speaking one’s mind. Even though neither of them knew what sentiments were clouding in their minds at every interaction they were involved in, in every glance they exchanged, every smile they greeted because even with such fondness, there was always a strong ambition to dominate prowling their nape, igniting a rage behind the scenes so that ultimately, at an unexpected moment, Hannibal would find Nigel pointing a gun at his head, or Tonny sprinkling poison on Nigel’s beer, or even discovering himself grinding a knife and hid it in his sleeves every time Nigel and Tonny sat with him.

Like this between their meals, they noticed that in a space under the attire they were wearing, at least there was a scalpel, gun, or screwdriver hidden.

Tonny halted his fingers, his eyes swiveled away from the glinting porcelain and his breathing suddenly served too steady. Even in his chair, Nigel no longer had the wicked smile he liked to show Tonny to annoy him, which lingered on his face a moment ago before a sigh through his nasal passages conveyed its salutation to his responsive brain. Then Hannibal, his gaze that had been surging over his glee at the fine meal he was relishing today even though Nigel and Tonny continued to mock each other, let his hands float on the plate with knife and fork between his fingers. In short, mainly, they froze, welcoming the other existences present in the dining room in quiet. While the silence retained them in an invisible barrier, detaching everyone from the world where people were carrying out their usual routine, Hannibal took a cautious breath, settling as if he was being banned for oxygen consumption. His brows faintly frowned before his eyes glanced at his attending siblings at the table in turn while the corners of his lips were tugged slightly, continued his meal as if the recess had never taken place. Nigel tilted his head after eventually deciding to look at Will and Aiden standing with the shivering Adam, gesturing for them to pick a chair and start their delayed breakfast. His ginger-colored marble shone on Adam, on the sweat dripping down his face and Nigel could hear how Adam was gulping on his own breath.

“Three, Nigel?” Hannibal took a sip of his fragrant coffee, its aroma permeating the air as Nigel drifted his gaze from Adam to his brother, shrugging. Followed by Tonny who also dropped a glance in the same direction.

“Gift.” He mumbled, wiping his nose with his thumb, plainly informing Hannibal that he was trying not to smile when he said that one of the three sheep in their house was a gift for him. Absolutely not Adam. Thus that’s whoever between Will or Aiden. “For you, Hannibal.”

“Theft, I’ll tell you.” Nigel snickered, his big hands pushing a big cut of sausage into his chops, munching it in the most irksome manner for Tonny, his final try to start a racket in front of the foods; this would piss off Hannibal, of course, but that’s what Nigel and Tonny liked—Hannibal was exceptionally displeased with people’s rude attitudes but instead entrapped in the coexistence of two of the crudest creatures that could afford beyond his remembrance. So don’t question why these three brothers yearn to kill each other, one of the motives has just been revealed.

“How nice it is to hear yourself being the topic of conversation as if you are an inanimate object.” Will smiled bitterly, drew a chair for him to occupy, followed by Aiden and Adam who were kept close to him. His amazement, which was caused more by the overwhelming sense of wonder, became even more intense when he could not distinguish any threatening whiff, like always as long as he was here. Only a dark wisp that didn’t budge, hovering at the end of the dining table where Hannibal, Nigel, and Tonny enjoyed their morning together while chatting. Well, at least that’s what Will thought he was seeing. But why did that thing, which was constantly trailing wherever Nigel went and assembled into something bigger when he was with the other two, not triggering the danger button in Will’s consciousness as well as Aiden’s? If Adam could possibly have missed the alarm, it shouldn’t have been for Aiden, who by all Will’s senses and his consciousness upheld to have an identical way of thinking; It should have been that when Will was feeling triviality Aiden would have been a suitable back-up but in fact, neither of them captured anything that could usher them to all sorts of bad guesses.

“Be nice a little, okay? At least you can eat appropriately and dress.” Nigel gulped down his water, if only Will and Aiden had understood what normally, naturally, went on in this place, they would have understood that his request was a form of warning, one of the virtues he could offer to keep the table tidy and clean.

“Dogs in captivity become domestic dogs. It’s still a dog.”

Tonny glanced at Will. “I think he doesn’t like the necklace.”

“Certainly not.” After the blue napkin from the table wiped his covered with beard tracks face, Nigel stood up, walked casually toward the three ‘guests’ with a subsided smile as he drew closer, his eyes scrutinizing the two sassy omega there, then docking on Adam who was sitting uneasily in his chair. Like a magnet, Nigel’s legs grazed straight towards him, his staring drastically changing from something recharged with self-confidence and oblivion to dark and undecipherable and Will glared; the dark wisp around Nigel’s head was very thick, enlarged and on its way to touch Adam. And just as electricity finally surpassed each other, Aiden heard Will’s imaginary siren ringing loudly, telling him to immediately pull Adam’s body low, off from Nigel’s hand while holding out his knife.

“Do not even try.”

“Huh?” Tonny blinked in his testimony, the corners of his lips twitched in awe. Next to him, Hannibal didn’t seem bothered, enjoying the music plus the birds chirping from the garden right behind his chair, outside the blood-red draped window. Nigel pursed his lips, sough, latched his index finger into the gap between Adam’s neck with the thick collar that the men from Verger Mansion had attached so that Aiden had to use the knife: he slashed the back of Nigel’s hand with one quick throw of strength.

“I just wanna fucking remove it, are you always this fucking annoying?” Nigel inquired in a deep tone while (still) making his way to carry out his intention to free the guests from the bridles on their bodies. On Adam’s, to be accurate. As soon as blood seeped from the wound, the room was loaded with a pungent, coercing, but undescribed odor. Just the smell of blood without supplementary guidance but enough to hush everything that was wailing in the minds of those terrified omega at the other side of the dining room. They coughed from the turbulent force while Adam’s sights drooped and level until they closed, granting him to stoop limply against Nigel’s midsection who was standing right beside him with his hands busy looking for a route to unwrap the collar. Far in his deepest hidden consciousness, something alerted Will and Aiden for them to flee immediately, so they wouldn’t prevail in this unknown place, lest they deal with anyone among the dark wisp masters who were relaxing while they, grappling between feeling jeopardized or confused, sat across from the atrocity. That thing also screamed bad news like ‘they are alpha’ and ‘they are the vultures, the obsolete, the most agile’.

‘They are formidable’.

‘It’s like you’re going to be on the menu for dinner’.

Slivers as small as dust rumbled and quivered smoothly across Nigel’s hands under his crust, commencing from the tips of his fingers that skimmed Adam’s, trickling irregularly down his shoulders and neck, propelling a warm feeling down his backbone but coming to be cold as it reached his hips—although before this Nigel always felt a chill run through his torso from time to time, taking up his rest, making him perpetually depleted and practically insane. By his age that was no longer young, Nigel particularly understood what his body was constantly whining about, Nigel knew what he needed but like the only pharmacy within his shackled-legs reach that ran out of aspirin because the owner forgot what kind of medicine it was, Nigel never got a cure. Then Adam, who was unexpectedly tied in chains on the stage, blatantly flashed his aspirin tag to Nigel’s despondent mind; an aspirin worth $7,500 would be at stake to get him. Slowing down the process of searching for the collar end, Nigel sloped his palm and clasped it along Adam’s jaw to his neck, feeling his body temperature being absorbed by each segment of his long finger, giving labor to an explosion; a small one that was cheering, happily rushed towards the receptors on the back of his dome which then yelled at his heart to ‘beat harder! Louder! Faster!’. Touching Adam made Nigel shivered and goosebumps and sure enough, this was his aspirin. “Doctor,” With eyes wilted, he glanced at Hannibal who was finished with his dish. “This person is very sick and I will take him to the room to rest. I hope you care to check him out  _ later _ .”

“Of course.”

“I won’t-” Aiden’s breath was storming and the dismay (due to excessive anxiety) that had built up made him let go of all the warnings that haunted his mind that was triggered by Nigel’s blood a moment ago. He got up quickly to snatch Adam back but as soon as he did, a hand wrapped around the base of his jaw with the other gripping his wrist that was about to put out a knife for a second time. Aiden perked up forcefully to be greeted by Tonny’s pair of dry moss-colored goggles who were staring at him, drawing all his attention in one drag. Fortunately, Will was drilled to be quiet listening to the howls in his mind, although sometimes it was against his algorithm, he did have to conceal the rebellion that was natural in him to put security first. Unfortunately, Aiden didn’t do the same so Tonny had to appear behind him, cease him, whispering ‘no’ that was swept away by the breeze, cradling like a drug, coaxing him smoothly.

“We do want Nigel dead, but we would not be delighted if we didn’t do it ourselves.” Tonny was still whispering, Aiden didn’t understand why but he couldn’t give any other outcome than to nod in agreement, there was something absolute in every word whispered to him that invested no choice of repulsion, pushing him into the abyss of obedience where he always stood on the edge without ever tumbling in his lifelong streak; because his parents hid him like other high-class peoples preserved their omega offspring until high alpha came with the nose sticking out and ears drooping. The way Tonny looked at him was not unfamiliar but what it delivered was embedded deep in Aiden’s mind for him to recognize as something that had been long-awaited, which for that reason was allowed to refract deeper into the center of his perceptions. And Aiden froze, the air suddenly felt so clear, so refreshing giving a breath of sanity to his consciousness that had been snatched away a few seconds earlier. His ears rang, the sounds in his imagination allowing him to reckon it as the flapping of a bird’s wing as frame after frame of a scenario swirled back and forth, speeded up then stopped, and struck him with a single quote he had memorized. His mother sat there, with a frayed scarlet scarf fringed at the hem, bending slightly while holding her son’s hand gently. “ _ You can’t choose, Aiden _ .” She said, smiling. “ _ Neither do they. Those of us in this class may have a lot of advantages, but behind that there are trials. We can’t choose with whom we spend the rest of our lives together, can’t choose whose teeth will stick to our nape, fate will do it _ . “

“ _ Then what worries you, Mom? _ ”

“ _ Because fate sometimes likes to joke around. It will kill me if it tries to be humorous with you, my son. _ ”

Aiden instantly compared it to the moment where his heart beat faster, his pupils were rounded large, and his smile broke unstoppable every time Vivian appeared on his sundeck, glancing at him with a passionate but not exciting enough appeal for Aiden to bounce on her, lung at her, bite her and claim her as his. He thought back to how his heart pang when Vivian went out with the man who should have been her uncle, the father of her skeptical cousin who always wanted to interfere. It might have been the work of his destiny, keeping him away from those who could stir his lust but not those who should nestle with him. And it seemed that fate was back to work forthwith, not to distance him but to present, to bring, to show what had been done for him. His mother was right, fate likes to joke. Her mother was right too, having been worried that Aiden would hear its joke.

Now Aiden could understand it very well.

Tonny deliberately let go of his grip, shifted away from Aiden then looked at his brother folding his napkin. He knew Hannibal felt something, Hannibal was very sensitive to situations in which his presence was pervasive and thorough, he was like a snake with the best tongue; as he should be as alpha, as he should be the leader of the Lecter. The greatest, the most talented. The gaze moved to Will who stapled his eyes to the void in front of him, his hands clenched against his thighs in an attempt to dampen his emotions because Tonny knew Will knew how to read minds apart from how one reeks; observe their actions. “Like my gift?” He asked. Hannibal raised eyebrows before repaying his younger brother’s gaze with a hint of a humble smile he often saw when Hannibal was impressed. Apart from his penchant for afflicting his older brother, Tonny also liked to impress him like this. “Very nice. I assume you let me see The Cunt.”

“You can start considering Nigel’s words, I suppose.”

“I can’t have children,” Tonny reacted instantly as he fled the dining room and disappeared behind an arch with thick ornate frames leading to the exit door to the garden. From the window, Will could see the man being approached by a tall, black-haired woman wearing a dark green coat who shortly engaged Tonny into a conversation before the two of them took a quick stride toward the railing, seemingly shrinking as they descended the steps behind it. Will took a deep breath, swallowing the part of the dark wisp that was still hovering over the room when Aiden turned to him with trembling eyelids and his hand grasping his shirt. The shock was what Will caught from the complexion in front of him. But the cause was something beyond his wisdom.

“For God’s sake,” Aiden clapped his hands together, bent his body back against the chair, took a deep breath, and let out a groan. “Where am I actually, what do you want, and can I, we, see Adam again? Alive?” Will knew the guy was talking to Hannibal because who else had the answers?

“Not a place you believed you would ever be.” Hannibal hummed, not once did he shift his gaze away from his own fingers to see the faces of the guests at the other end of the table while a maid cleaning used tableware stepped away from his sight; Hannibal did provide all his own food, making sure he knew what went into his stomach, into the people’s of his ‘castle’ stomachs without exception, but he didn’t have to bother to clean up each of his banquets finishing. It wasn’t a requirement for alpha from a high grade like him.

“Also answer my other questions.”

“If you assume I possess the answer, it belongs to my brother Nigel.”

“Are you a doctor?” Will interrupted, his lips moving to interview the shade of the resemblance that his blurred vision captured (Mason was a jerk for removing his glasses) and the flashes that slip into his dream on his call to the mind palace when Adam put his limp head was back on track, but he’s not agile enough to stop one of those for him to study consciously, for him to know its meaning. He had disregarded the exile room and its inhabitants which he had not met for a long period because everything was so vague, running absent from his hands to be carried until he awoke.

“The lustrous era that I let pass in my healing, relinquishing only the sensations of touch to my nerves and senses passed on by knowledge.”

“What do you mean?”

“Retired,” Will answered Aiden’s question hastily on Hannibal’s behalf. He himself didn’t know why he was doing it, something inside of him feeling that this conversation was owned by him and Hannibal, not letting another mouthpiece to interrupt as his mind and memory resumed to scan, trying to unravel what his hunch was trying to convey. Hannibal smiled, nodded affirmatively, stealing glimpses at the dark ripples coating Will’s scalp. He sniffed silently, a solid wood that held bones side by side with a splash of water streaming in the river which was swiftly tallied by his brain and lulled him wiped out all the utterances he had composed, almost tore his mouth out to reality. A spot around his wrists twitched and he pulled at the sleeves so that no one would notice what was happening. His neck bristled as a subtle shock ran through his body, sheathing his paunch and his covered-with-rust hips. “Enjoy breakfast.” He stood up and ended the conversation, shuffling briskly with his neat gait reflecting just how educated and how filled he was with courtesy, following Nigel and Tonny out of the dining room. Breakfast time was over, it seemed.

Aiden jerked Will’s shoulder, bringing their faces near as if what he was about to say was the most confidential thing about his life. “There’s something in this place, I feel it, and I’m afraid it’s related to what Adam goes through.”

“What?”

“The call, Will. It attracted me and I hated how natural it felt when it was so foreign.” Aiden groaned, more so than ever before. “Then rang my mother’s words about alpha, marks, mating,”

“I could be wrong, but which one, of the three, attracted you?” Since the entire house was particularly prone to be overtaken by the traces of the three brothers they had just met, their presence might mingle and mystify Aiden’s sense. Who would know that Nigel had the potential to mate Adam and not Aiden?

Lecter clan was at the prestige ladder crown and was one with the strongest genetic superiority where their special trait would invariably be passed down as the most distinctly reeking, the rarest multitude of blood brothers who were nestled in a manor located in Lithuania, their ‘habitat’. They were condemned to only be able to mate members of their clan when most of the pupils born into their lineage were alpha, or if they were fortunate, they could copulate certain people with ‘Lecter potential’; and those people were scarcely excavated if Lecters were not sufficiently vigilant and adept in sniffing and distinguishing, resulting in many of their family members succumbing before their search finished, causing Lecter’s existence to diminish and be forgotten. During their heyday, Lecter was a meritorious clan, their spectrum of sovereignty was so wide and no one wished the courage to break it because who didn’t know how heartless the people behind the protection of the barricades were? Cold-blooded hunters who didn’t think twice to execute even their own brothers if the rivalry was what was at stake. Territorial expansion and addition of family members also enlarged by rogue recruitment and massacres but never supported by fertile partners and twin omega descendants. Ironically, the absence of a mate was what deflated Lecter’s glory, not a defeat in a competition for life nor a surrender to obsessing immorality, until only three of the immediate descendants remained, keeping on the hope for their legacy: Hannibal, Nigel, and Tonny. All alpha. And of course never mated, never knotted or marked anybody.

“I didn’t think so, Cordell. Who can?” Mason moaned over his bed while Cordell massaged his legs, pressing the reflex points on the soles of his feet that had not been used for walking. He was mourning his imprudence, yet again blew off the chance to catch Lecter and fulfill his only pursuit apart from all his business with his lovely little sister, Margot. No, that was not what he was weeping about, but rather his inaccuracy in guessing that the three omega he had coincidentally selected—along with Cordell—for auction were people with Lecter potential. “Of course, their smell is richer than the others.”

“We’ll find them, sir. Lecter has a lot of enemies, now that they’ve got the Omega, the succeeding alternative is to make a threat.” Cordell smiled coldly.

“Lecter was never threatened.”

“Not like the omega.”

Mason paused for a moment, then let out a maniacal laugh muffled by the thickness of the piled skin on his face. “You are my genius disciple, Cordell. Remarkably brilliant.”

He fed lumber at the flames licked in the fireplace in front of him, the reddish-orange glint that tinged his face bringing tracks of sweat to his forehead as long as he had not retreated to the old scarlet settee in the middle of the room where another man sat eating pears giddily, fruit knife in hand. Somewhere else, far from the Verger Mansion, far from where Lecter Manor stood, far from the dense settlement, secluded in a meadow that intersected shady trees in the state frontier forest, a small hut became a den for Tristan and Galahad for one recent season. Galahad stood up, turned so that the imprint on his nape glistened, walked away from the fire and secured himself on Tristan’s stretched arm, summoning him to land; both of them didn’t need to exchange words often to understand each other’s intentions and longings, as long as they were physically intact, they would always understand each other. Forgetting the fruit and knife in hand, Tristan held Galahad in his arms, bussed his forehead which was swept away by his favorite thick curls, grew long and low almost obscuring his sight but Galahad didn’t mind, Tristan liked it so he let it stay as it.

His hand ran up to touch the alpha’s prominent and firm cheekbone draped by long bangs that would have been very stylish if only the man had managed to comb his hair. But it’s alright, it was just as he tolerated Tristan and vice versa. “Don’t shave.” Galahad chortled, rubbing his cheek against Tristan’s beard. He smiled in reply as his embrace grew tighter; he was never as delighted as when he was with Galahad, in his wandering away from the shackling life he had attained his trophy which he would not have risked with myriad perils if he kept going to dwell as Lecter descendant.

That’s right, there it was, no one had documented that Lecter had  _ few _ still-alive alpha sons because Tristan, from a young age, did not behave as dominantly as an alpha should be. But that didn’t mean he was submissive, he was just more sensible and logical in knowing when to use his dominance, using the boons he had as Lecter’s son to compel, to get rid of certainty he didn’t allow. He was lucid compared to his brothers and perhaps that was what rendered the disparity why Tristan mated first; he carried miscellaneous opportunities to perceive and assimilate his smells until he was certain that what he was scenting from Galahad was indeed something special, something he exclusively felt there. Lecter potential.

“Galahad,” Tristan shuffled a piece of pear lying on the blade of his knife into his mouth, careful not to scrape the omega’s cheek while Galahad clamped his arm around Tristan’s waist, relaxing in his leader’s warm embrace. Oh, even if Tristan had not knotted Galahad yet, sooner or later it would undoubtedly happen and after that, without question, they would carry a little pack where Tristan would guide in gratification. “What’s this that I smell?”

“Our new shampoo?” What other joy could Tristan withhold every time he heard the word ‘our’ came out of the lips of his cherished one?

“You appear more and more...” Tristan sniffed more openly, then stared at Galahad who was looking up at him with huge amazed eyes with a stain of confusion and novelty in them. “Not using suppressants anymore, huh?”

Galahad laughed. “What for? What else do I need to suppress now that you marked me?”

“It is not that,”

“Yes. Then?” From Tristan’s cheekbone, Galahad dragged his thumb to brush the lips, something that suddenly became very stunning to his sparkling eyes. Right, now Tristan got the answer. Luckily he had a keenness that his brothers prefer to ignore so that he had something superior to his less prominent dominant trait. Tristan smiled again, cocked his head forward to kiss Galahad’s lips as he appeared so considerably looking forward to it. They kissed for a while before Galahad ended it with a content sigh, which Tristan caught very clearly. “You noticed.”

Tristan nodded. “I need to remind you that I’ve never really let my scent stunk until this very second. You can smell me as me, not my advent. Later, when your heat drives me crazy in my rut, Galahad,”

“I’ll be crazy too.”

“It is who I truly am and I need you don’t pass out.”


End file.
